


Religio Nemorivaga

by engine



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Soulmates, canon typical magic, the forest made them do it, vaguely medieval fantasy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/pseuds/engine
Summary: Adam had arrived just before a storm, the air thick with the promise of rain and magic. He’d worn the clothes of the druids, though Blue hadn’t recognized him, and he’d apologized, in a stilted voice, for being so late.“Late for what?” Ronan had asked, captivated, and furious that was captivated.“Oh,” Adam had said, surprise on his face as he looked at Ronan, lighting crashing in the sky behind him. “There you are.”Ronan had known, then, who he was.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 10
Kudos: 193





	Religio Nemorivaga

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in a feverish haze in a single day in 90F weather, i can't be held accountable for my actions. thanks so much to angie for helping me come up with an appropriately bullshitty latin title.

Stepping into the forest felt like coming home, or perhaps being born. It was like slipping beneath the cool water of a river flush with snowmelt, a baptism, the first breath of air when you resurfaced into the sunlight. Dust motes floated between the shadows of the trees, sparkling with life, with magic, with a sense of anticipation of what was, of what could be.

Ronan loved it. Though he didn’t always understand the forest, he felt it understood him. This, of all the land under his control, was truly his kingdom, welcoming him into its embrace like a mother, coaxing him into its dreamy depths. It was under his command as much as he was under its, both eager to do each others’ bidding. He breathed deeper, easier, underneath its canopy.

Or, at least, he had, before Adam had arrived.

“You’re still here,” he said, as he stepped into a clearing cut in half by a glittering stream. On the other side of the water was Adam, the young man whose official title was Speaker of the Forest. There hadn’t been a Speaker since Ronan had ascended to the throne following his father’s death; he didn’t like to think of why, though Gansey loved to theorize on the connection between the Dreaming King and the forest. Those conversations mostly made Ronan feel itchy, deep in his soul. He had gotten very good at tuning Gansey out.

Adam had arrived just before a storm, the air thick with the promise of rain and magic. He’d worn the clothes of the druids, though Blue hadn’t recognized him, and he’d apologized, in a stilted voice, for being so late.

“Late for what?” Ronan had asked, captivated, and furious that was captivated. 

“Oh,” Adam had said, surprise on his face as he looked at Ronan, lightning crashing in the sky behind him. “There you are.”

Ronan had known, then, who he was.

“Where else would I be?” Adam said, looking up from his contemplation of the stream. He had a slight smile on his face, amused and also a bit judgmental; it scraped at the insides of Ronan’s ribs.

This was an often repeated conversation between them. Despite knowing who and what Adam was, Ronan was never quite expecting Adam to still be there when he visited the forest. Sometimes it felt as though Ronan had dreamed him. If this meant he’d started visiting the forest more often to verify his existence, that was no one’s business but Ronan’s.

He stepped across the stream to stand beside Adam, barely noticing the way the water parted for him, streaming around his boots yet not touching them.

Adam stood up, brushing dirt from his hands on his tunic. He wasn’t much shorter than Ronan, but where Ronan was broad and rough, Adam was gaunt and fine, like a deer on the run from encroaching hunters. It made Ronan want—many things.

“Did you want something?” Adam asked, and Ronan had to remind himself that, despite Adam’s connection to the forest, he couldn’t actually read Ronan’s mind.

“Just a rest,” he said, thinking about everything happening back at the castle. Plans to make, problems to fix; none it _needed_ him, exactly, but everyone still wanted him there, as though by virtue of his magic, he was somehow the best person to make every decision. Ronan was good at two things: dreaming, and fighting, and neither of those were useful in settling a property dispute. Gansey could handle it all without him well enough.

Adam hummed. Around them the trees whispered as though touched by a breeze, but the air was still, thick and humid with summer. Ronan thought he heard snippets of language, human voices, but as always the words eluded him.

“Then rest here,” Adam said, but the words weren’t Adam’s words. They sounded like vines and grass and deep roots, like birdsong and the buzzing of bees. Unlike Ronan, Adam always understood what the forest was saying.

He led Ronan to a patch of grass just beneath a gap in the canopy where the sky shone through, and they laid there, Ronan and Adam, two sides of the same coin, or perhaps two halves of a whole. The forest breathed around them and in them and through them. A bird launched itself from a branch high above, leaves falling gently to the ground. Something moved deeper in the forest, beneath brush, unseen. Ronan was awake, or maybe not; the world felt malleable like in a dream, but he hadn’t remembered closing his eyes. Was time passing? The sun didn’t move in the sky above them; the shadows didn’t lengthen; Adam’s shoulder did not touch his own. 

“You should probably go back now,” Adam said, after minutes, or hours, or days. His voice was just Adam now, firm but tired, and maybe a little melancholy. Adam always sounded a little melancholy.

Ronan sat up, looking down at him; his eyes were still closed. “You could come with me,” Ronan said, surprising himself as much as he seemed to surprise Adam. “Just—you don’t have to stay here, all the time.”

He wasn’t sure where Adam spent his time in the forest when Ronan wasn’t there. He’d never seen any dwelling of any kind, other than the occasional dark, damp caves carved into outcroppings of rock. If Adam had a home, he’d never invited Ronan, and Ronan had never asked about it, both lacking the words and the nerve. When Adam had first arrived, Blue had been the one to ask if he planned to stay at the castle or the forest; she herself sometimes slept outdoors—sometimes alone, sometimes with Gansey—tracing constellations in the night sky with her fingertips. Ronan wasn’t sure why, now, he felt the need to extend an offer himself.

“No,” Adam said, both an agreement and a refusal, “I don’t.”

-

That night, Ronan dreamed of sleeping beneath trees.

-

“You seem distracted,” Gansey said as they walked a circuit along the parapets. This was, in theory, an inspection of the guard, but in practice was something more like a break. The air was cool after a night of rain, and the sky clear. “Please, let me know if I’m boring you.”

He didn’t sound annoyed, just pretentious and slightly amused, which tended to be Gansey’s default setting when everything was otherwise going well.

“You’re boring me,” Ronan said instinctively, and Gansey rolled his eyes. 

“You’ve been going to the forest more often,” Gansey said, stopping midway through one long stretch of the wall to look out at the treeline. It was close to the castle today, walking distance if Ronan wished, beckoning to him. There were other days when he had to ride out to it, a dark shape on the horizon, and its closeness felt like a challenge. 

Ronan shrugged. It wasn’t something he could deny; in the time since Adam had arrived, his trips to the forest had increased from monthly, to weekly, to almost daily. Its magic called to him more keenly now, reached out to him in all his dreams rather than just some of them. When Ronan allowed himself to be honest, though, he could admit his desire to be there extended beyond that.

“I’m not criticizing you,” Gansey continued, still sounding slightly amused, watching Ronan as Ronan watched the trees. “Blue thinks it’s a good thing.”

“Blue thinks people care about her opinion,” Ronan said, which was rude, but lacked sincerity; he and Blue got along these days, for the most part. Gansey gave him a look that said Ronan wasn’t fooling him, and Ronan scowled. “Whatever. I can’t explain it. It just feels—” He paused, grasping for words.

“You don’t have to explain it to _me_.” Gansey’s voice was light, but Ronan had known Gansey long enough to recognize he was holding himself back. “But you might want to explain it to _him_.”

-

Despite the ache in his chest, Ronan didn’t go to the forest that day, or the day after.

The treeline stayed near the castle, close enough to touch.

-

Adam was sitting beside the lake, legs dangling in the water, when Ronan emerged from the brush. He turned at the sound though he didn’t seem startled, one eyebrow raised.

“Been a while,” he said, though in the end, Ronan had only managed to stay away for three days. He gestured for Ronan to sit beside him, so Ronan did. After a moment of hesitation, he removed his boots and cuffed his pants, sliding his feet into the cool water; he felt the forest sigh with relief.

Ronan could have said, _I was busy_ , or maybe, _Running a kingdom takes a lot of work_. But neither was true, and Ronan found himself, more and more often, not wanting to lie to Adam.

“I was testing something,” he said, hands clasped loosely on his lap. He stared down at the water, clear in a way no body of fresh water ever really was or should be; clear like crystal. 

“And?” Adam asked, a bit sarcastic. “Did you figure it out?”

Ronan looked up at the leafy canopy above them, then back down at the water, and finally over to Adam, who was already looking at him, eyebrow still raised. He looked curious, and slightly amused, and so, so beautiful.

There were a lot of things Ronan could say, and a lot of things Gansey would tell him he _should_ say, but the words didn’t want to come.

“I can’t stay long,” was what he said, tightening his grip on his own hands so he didn’t do anything he’d regret. “But I’ll come back tomorrow.”

-

The forest stayed close to the castle; calling; waiting.

-

Ronan woke up.

It was still dark outside, nowhere near dawn, and clouds obscured patches of stars. His hands and feet were numb, slow to move, torn abruptly from a dream. He tried to slow his breathing but he felt frantic, dizzy, and he stumbled out of bed before he truly realized what he was doing. He had to—he needed to not be _here_. He had to get out.

The forest was close enough that its magic crackled against his skin when he stepped outside; it cloaked him from the guards’ eyes, it urged him forward, pulled him along the way he was pulled into dreams. Ronan barely felt in control of himself as he ran beyond the castle walls, crashed his way into the forest. He could almost hear it now, the voices of the trees, _Ronan, Ronan, Ronan_.

This time, he found Adam somewhere new. The clearing was smaller than the usual ones they’d spent time in, and completely open to the sky above. He sat on a makeshift bed, head tilted up to gaze at the moon, bright and full, and this time, when Ronan stepped out from the trees, he looked genuinely surprised.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, though Adam looked like he wanted to; he also looked like he might run away if Ronan said the wrong thing. Ronan was, of course, quite good at saying the wrong thing; he decided not to say anything.

“You—” Adam started, but stopped himself, sighing with clear frustration. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ronan said, taking a step closer. Adam didn’t move, but one hand twitched, like he was forcing himself not to. “I keep—having dreams.”

“You always have dreams.” Adam gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s sort of the point.”

Ronan shook his head. “They’re different. They’re… less clear. I can’t control them, the way I should.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “It’s just… trees.”

When he looked back up, Adam was watching him, a strange expression on his face. He gestured for Ronan to come over, and Ronan went, sitting down on the blankets beside him though careful not to touch.

“It knows why you have to leave, but its reaching out to you anyway, like a child,” Adam said, his elegant features pinched into a frown. “You’re not listening to what the forest wants.”

“What does the forest want?” he asked, watching the way moonlight reflected off Adam’s hair, like sunlight on leaves damp with morning dew.

Adam sighed, slow and long, staring up at the moon. “You,” he said, and something about him seemed more _forest_ than _human_. “It always just wants you.”

Ronan’s heart beat heavy in his chest, so loud he thought anyone would be able to hear it. Before he could stop himself, his hand closed around Adam’s wrist, thumb pressing against delicate skin. “And what do _you_ want?”

He was startled by the softness in his voice, the longing, the hope, as though he’d ripped out his insides and presented them to Adam. A promise, or a gift.

“ _Ronan_ ,” Adam said, as though it was torn from him, and this, _this_ was entirely Adam, _entirely_ human. He looked back at Ronan, his gaze mirroring what was in Ronan’s voice, and it sparked something in Ronan’s chest, heat spreading through his limbs; he hadn’t realized his hands were still numb until suddenly he could feel them again. “I—”

Ronan leaned forward, resting his forehead against Adam’s; Adam closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath, but Ronan watched him, trying to commit every change in Adam’s expression to memory.

“I’m listening now,” Ronan said, quietly, feeling Adam’s heartbeat beneath his fingers, rapid fire underneath the skin of his wrist. “Tell me. _Tell_ me, Adam.”

Adam twitched at his name, but finally, _finally_ opened his eyes again, his free hand coming up to hover just above Ronan’s chest. “It could just be the magic,” he said, still hesitant, _scared_ , always cautious. He looked so fragile. “I don’t want to—to be an _obligation_ —”

Ronan kissed him.

Adam’s hand grabbed at his shirt. Ronan’s other hand came up to cup his jaw. The trees shivered as Ronan pulled back.

“You’re _not_ ,” Ronan said, brushing his thumb across Adam’s cheek. “Adam. _Adam_. I don’t give a shit what the forest wants.”

That made Adam laugh, his hand still curled tightly in the fabric of Ronan’s shirt, just above his heart. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” he said, and Ronan knew that he was probably right. The forest needed a Speaker and a Dreamer; the magic inside both of them called to the other, and it was hard to know what was the magic and what wasn’t. But maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe it was fine for fate to have drawn them together. Maybe the forest knew better than they ever could.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” Ronan said, and Adam smiled, so Ronan _did_ kiss him again, dropping Adam’s wrist to cup his face in both his hands. 

Adam pulled him forward by the shirt, wrapping an arm around his waist, fingers digging into the muscles of Ronan’s back. Ronan pressed him down onto the blankets and furs, wanting, _needing_ to be closer, the urgency of it almost frightening in its intensity. He could feel the magic of the forest underneath Adam’s skin, the power of it, the way it pressed up against Ronan’s own, the way it mirrored Adam’s body. Ronan moved his hands from Adam’s face to his hips, holding him down, biting at his jaw, his neck; Adam cursed, something Ronan hadn’t heard very often, and his nails scraped at Ronan’s skin. 

“Good?” Ronan asked against Adam’s neck, hyper aware of all the places they were connected.

“Shut _up_ ,” Adam said, half a gasp. “You’re so—”

Ronan slipped a hand beneath the fabric of his clothes, finding skin, and Adam cursed again before reaching up to pull Ronan back in for a kiss. Adam was equal parts demanding and yielding, challenging Ronan and pleased when he rose to the occasion. 

“Ronan,” Adam said against his mouth, quiet and gasping, like a prayer. “ _Ronan_ ,” he said, when skin pressed against skin. Ronan wanted to hear Adam say his name like that a hundred times, a thousand times, for the rest of his life.

This, too, felt like coming home.

After, they lay together under the stars, sweat cooling on their skin, Ronan still wrapped possessively around Adam, refusing to let go. Adam traced the line of his brow, the curve of his ear, the dark lines of his tattoo curving up his neck. The trees were quiet, the sound of wind in the leaves nothing more than wind. The moon still looked down on them, a perfectly clear patch of sky between encroaching clouds.

“Come back with me,” Ronan said, not a suggestion this time but a plea. His fingers found the marks he’d left on Adam’s skin, a perfect diagram of his desire. “The forest can live without you.”

Adam made an amused sound, not quite a laugh. “And you can’t?” 

Ronan sat up, expression serious as he looked down at Adam; they’d been in this position before, the last time Ronan had asked, and yet everything felt completely different. A voice that sounded distressingly like Gansey echoed in his head: _you might want to tell him_.

“Honestly,” Ronan said, and _now_ he felt the forest, the strength of it, old and comforting, telling him _yes, yes, yes, this is right_. “I don’t think I can.”

-

When the sun rose, and they left the forest hand in hand, it let them go with only a soft, contented sigh.


End file.
